


Between a Waiter and a Hard Place

by Enigel



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for eris in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge as a Yuletide Treat.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Between a Waiter and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Written for eris in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge as a Yuletide Treat.

Ford peered hastily through the menu, then passed it to Arthur, who had even less of an idea what the odd names might mean, and how much more dubious than the name would the food itself prove to be. Ford then consulted the drinks list with all the collected calm of a piranha dropped in a tank of goldfish, pointing to this and that until settling on something.

"Two of today's lunch special, and a big Jynan Tonix," he said with an anticipatory pleased sigh.

"I'll just have a tea, please," said Arthur.

"Tee?" inquired the waiter who'd been, in his turn, waiting for their decision with all the patience of a lurking spider, only less enthusiastic. "Would the kind sir detail this concept of 'tee'?"

Arthur opened his mouth to provide details aplenty, but Ford's terrified expression gave him pause. It was a fatal pause, during which Ford's terrified mind set in motion Ford's alert body, and in conclusion of which Ford's determined hand clamped itself over Arthur's mouth.

"Hot water with edible leaves soaked in it," he shouted, covering Arthur's protests.

"Ah," the waiter nodded politely, though his expression said clearly that he found Arthur's choice not only bizarre, but repugnant and highly offensive, though his own class as a waiter would not allow him to express his distaste, but gave him the dignity to bear such offense unaffected.[1]

Time passed. Artificial night in the restaurant came, then was replaced again by artificial noon. (It was a lunch and dinner only restaurant.)

"I think whatever we're supposed to eat is putting up a hell of a struggle," said Arthur.

"Mhm," Ford mumbled. "Just wait till the Jynan Tonix gets here."

More time passed.

Arthur excused himself to shave. Ford nodded absently at him, his gaze lost in space. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something. In reality, he was trying hard to cling on to the last remains of the alcoholic daze of the day before. He felt he was returning to reality, and he didn't like it one bit.

When their food finally arrived, together with the drinks, Ford blinked.

After the customary inspection by Ford, checking that no parts of the meal were capable of autonomous motion, Arthur peeked through his fingers at the plate.

It looked... normal. Arthur allowed himself to relax a fraction.

"Wow," he said after he'd devoured the contents. "I'm surprised to have to say this, Ford, but this may be the best cabbage soup I've ever had since all Earth kitchens were blown from the sky."

Ford coughed.

"Er, that was your tea, Arthur."

"Oh." Arthur's expression of delight dropped several notches. "Well, it was good anyway. It would be too much to hope that the soup will taste like tea, wouldn't it?"

"It might be better to settle for hoping it will taste the same," said Ford, "but I wouldn't bet the tiniest towel on it."

The soup came remarkably fast after that - Arthur only had time to read the phonebook once. Before the waiter had time to move away from their table, Arthur heard a familiar whooshing noise.

Before he could place it in "bad familiar" or "run away now!" familiar, he saw a white gleaming ship landing in the restaurant's fountain, and the unfortunately familiar shape of Wowbagger emerging from it.

His stomach sank. Wowbagger was, of course, heading for them, and he was again caught off his guard. He couldn't think of one insulting thing to say to him - he'd exhausted them all in the time between.

Wowbagger headed towards their waiter.

"StarlingtonFexXillalian?" asked Wowbagger, his tone loaded with as much sneer and contempt as Arthur remembered. It sounded better when he wasn't the target.

"Yes, that would be me. Sir has a reservation?"

"No," screeched Wowbagger, "sir has no reservations whatsoever to let you know that you're a pretentious jerk with no brains, and a disgusting slob!"

The waiter's mouth pursed to a point and the air began vibrating with the waves of contempt and outrage he was broadcasting.

Wowbagger was already climbing the ramp to his ship.

Arthur felt a deep and intense feeling of gratification, until he realised the implications on his meal. He looked sadly at his plate, and his plate seemed to be looking back at him. (The impression was accented by the arrangement of various body parts on the plate.)

"I'll never know if it tasted like tea now," said Arthur sadly.

"I think it's safe to assume it didn't," frowned Ford.

"Yes, but I'll never _know_."

"I promise you it's for the better," said Ford. "Now let's go."

"Um. Don't we have to," Arthur lowered his voice just in case, "pay?"

Ford looked at him in surprise.

"Pay? With what? I never bring money to a restaurant, they might find it and take it away."

"Find it? Who are..."

Arthur didn't get to finish his question, because the answer came to grab them by the scruff of the neck.

* * *

"I really can't take you anywhere," Ford said when they were safely outside, sitting on the sidewalk and leaning against the wall to keep their precarious balance.

"Me? ME?"

"They were never this bad when I used to go alone. I guess the waiter was really furious he couldn't guess us until the last moment."

"He could have guessed us sooner if you'd _told_ me you were planning on leaving without paying," said Arthur scathingly. "Spared us a heck of a post-prandial interview."

"And miss the lunch itself?" asked Ford. "Are you serious?"

"You didn't even eat!"

"Ah, no one comes here for food," Ford said dreamily. "It's the Jynan Tonix, Arthur. No other place makes it quite like this one."

"I hope it was worth your bruises."

Ford grinned.

"What bruises? I only feel the Jynan running through my body. It's the whole point."

"Good for you, then. I think I can feel your bruises too."

"Ah," said Ford. "So you probably won't be interested then."

Arthur waited for him to go on, but Ford didn't.

"Interested in what?"

"Well, I know this place. Kind of expensive. Same species of waiters."

Arthur scowled.

"They have tea."

Arthur sighed.

"How far?"

Ford grinned.

* * *

[1] This is not an exaggeration. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about IXnellian waiters:

Trained for years in utmost strictness and highest secrecy, IXnellian waiters have the ability to broadcast low-level cerebral waves and project them with astonishing accuracy towards the psyches of the customers. They're also able to sense with unrivalled precision the net worth of each customer from a single glimpse at a dozen persons table, and intuit who's going to try and leave without paying.

An experienced waiter can serve up to ten tables at once, not by virtue of speed (which is a lowly expedient reserved for young untrained waiters), but by being capable to instill the customers with the sense that they should be grateful when such a rare and noble being finds the time to attend to their pathetic needs, and generally just wait, dammit.


End file.
